


red desert

by rians_world



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Babies, Blood, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Uchiha Sasuke-centric, i mean i guess? like... its the uchiha massacre so., lots of Descriptions so read at your own discretion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:28:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23650861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rians_world/pseuds/rians_world
Summary: “Where,” he demands, shaking all over again, but now with something hot licking through his body that goads him forward. It feels like anger, like white-hot rage, and it takes him a moment to realize it is not. It is a fierce longing that curls through him completely, his soul pulling his body forward at nothing but a name.There is movement behind him and a small sound that wrenches his body back, spinning him on his toes and he feels lightheaded.An ANBU stands at attention before him, and in his arms lies a bundle of blankets and an infant.
Comments: 20
Kudos: 82





	1. from blood and ash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YALL, FUCK. it is 10:45 am and I have yet to sleep!! this is the product of me reading naruto fanfiction while half-delirious but also kind of inspired feyhdijskds  
> this is inspired but a fic by chadsuke- sasuke and the baby: or, how to raise a child when you're only eight  
> the idea of baby sasuke RAISING A CHILD is fucking hilarious to me but also,, tortuous! the angst! the feelings! god!  
> anyway this is sad but also fluffy because sasuke knows babies and i love him and itsumi, FAMILY.  
> i should probably wait and edit this after I sleep but honestly who gives a fuck! read my unedited word vomit!  
> title from Red Desert by 5 Seconds of Summer

It’s the blood that moves him eventually. 

It seeps through his socks and the knees of his shorts that touch the floor and the almost warmth of it jerks him to action. 

He drags himself out of his crumpled position and, shaking- tremors wracking through his small frame almost enough to make him fall- he reaches for his mother. 

Her hand is just on the wrong side of cold, like she had stood in the autumn evening air too long with no gloves to keep her warm, and her skin is too pale- even for an Uchiha. 

He grips her hand in his own, ignoring how it dwarfs him, and tugs. The sound of her, sliding across the tatami mats, smearing dark red copper as he pulls, her clothing catching on uneven terrain, stills his mind completely. He pulls and pulls and drags her out of the room, down the hall, off the porch, and into the streets. 

There are more bodies here, blood lining every inch his eyes can see and he does not linger. 

He moves back through his home, the smell of metal heavy on his tongue, and he grips his father’s hand now, once more pulling. 

He moves mechanically, a stiffness sunk deep into his bones, into his very core, that has him walking from house to house, finding each body in their pools of blood and dragging them to the streets. 

It is only when the sky has begun to lighten, the heavens above now a cool blue that washes over him and catches his eyes, that he stands in the blood-soaked streets of his- and his alone- land that all the bodies have been torn from the spots where they died. 

He lets his eyes fall from the sky and he stares at the corpses around him as the sun peaks over the horizon and casts his land in bloody realization. 

His hands shake and he looks down at himself and he can not tear his eyes from the red that covers his arms, from his fingers to the crook of his elbows. 

It drips from his fingers sluggishly, near dry, but not quite. His clothing sticks to his skin with it, tacky red that makes him itch so horribly. 

The shaking has stopped, and his mind stays comfortingly blank as he pulls his hands through seals his father drilled so deeply into his mind that he could and would never forget them. He feels the quiet pull of chakra and with the flick of his blood-stained fingers, fire licks its way through the streets. 

Impossibly hot flames cover each and every body and he wobbles on his feet, and falls, crashing to his knees and once more feeling nothing but blood seeping in around him. 

The smell, smoke and heat and metal and meat burning and finally ash, fills the air. 

The shaking returns with a violent vengeance and he curls over himself and heaves as bile snakes up his throat and burns as he expels it. 

His eyes blur, from the heat in the air or possibly tears or maybe his vision is giving out entirely, he does not know. 

He sits crumpled in the dirt as the fire runs its course and he does not move until the last flame is expelled and all that is left is ash. 

His land stretches out before him, the Compound itself untouched and standing still as if time moves differently throughout it, and nothing has changed but the layers of ash and the stain of blood covering the earth around him. 

With the fire gone the wind is all he hears, it howls through the Compound, shakes the trees and kicks up ash and Sasuke jumps to his feet staring at the flurries of ash that was once his family. 

They drift in the breeze, scattering and catching the current, swept away, away, away.

It is then that people begin to arrive, shinobi sweeping in in waves to take in the scene. 

Someone approaches him, the sound of their voice is too loud and Sasuke feels suddenly very weak and he falls into the grasp of someone and he does not care. 

They pull him into their arms, picking him up completely and they carry him away. 

Sasuke keeps his eyes on the ash floating lazily in the early morning air- away, away, away- but soon he is taken from his land and he stares at nothing now, unseeing and unwilling to care. 

The wind whips at him as the shinobi runs along rooftops, leaping from foothold to foothold until they reach their destination. 

They enter a building that Sasuke knows and has seen before, but his mind moves slowly, full of ash and thick dripping blood, and he can not remember the name.

They move fast, colors blurring in their haste until an abrupt stop and Sasuke is being set down on his feet once more. He sways and lets his eyes roam the room and land on a man at a desk with a hat he very much knows. 

Sasuke closes his eyes and purposefully breaths deep, once, twice, three times, until he can hear the words being spoken around him. He opens his eyes and steps forward, but his feet slip and he looks down to see his blood-covered socks smearing his mother and father across the Hokage’s floor. 

He looks up and the Hokage is there, kneeling before him with a look on his face Sasuke will soon come to hate vehemently. 

“Sasuke,” the old man begins, and it is already too much. 

Sasuke reaches forward and lies his blood-covered palm flat against the Hokage’s robes. 

“I am the last,” he says, his voice horse and small and paper-thin. 

He does not cry. His mind feels so far away from his body that he feels he can not even begin to emote, let alone find it in himself to cry. He simply grips the Hokage’s now blood-stained robe in his small fist and lets the world move around him. 

The Hokage speaks, the other people in the room do as well and he hears none of it. 

Eventually, he is picked up once more and swept away to the hospital, that he recognizes, and he endures the hands of many nurses brushing over him with wet rags and soap. 

He is given a hospital gown, and he hopes they burn his clothing, but then again, that is all he has left of mother now. He lets them take them anyway. 

He is picked up and wooshed many places after that, asked many questions he does not hear, feels many hands on his now clean skin, until he once more is set in front of the Hokage. 

He does not know how much time has passed since he was here last, but there is no bloody handprint adorning the old man’s robes and when he looks down, the floor is clear of his copper footprints. 

“Sasuke, I know this is not the time, but you are now the eldest of your Clan,” the Hokage begins, his face pinched in a grimace. 

“So I must inform you, you are not the last of the Uchiha,” he says, and Sasuke blinks. 

That Man flashes through his mind, the image of him draped in moonlight and the black of darkness, blood- red, thick, slippery- dripping from his blade and his eyes- a swirling mass of red and black and fire and rage and- 

“There is a child, Uchiha Itsumi, but a month old,” the Hokage continues, and the image of That Man spirals away, leaving Sasuke gripping his chest. 

_Itsumi Itsumi Itsumi Itsumi Itsumi._ His mind pulses with the name and the name only.

It feels as if he only now awoken, the first morning rays of sunlight peaking over the trees, urging him up, up, up. Awareness washes through his mind, the acknowledgment of his solidarity, and the image of a baby, now his and his alone. 

His stomach lurches and he leaps forward, crashing into the desk and slamming his hands to the face of it. 

“Where,” he demands, shaking all over again, but now with something hot and pure licking through his body that goads him forward. It feels like anger, like white-hot rage, and it takes him a moment to realize it is not. It is a fierce longing that curls through him completely, his soul pulling his body forward at nothing but a name. 

There is movement behind him and a small sound that wrenches his body back, spinning him on his toes and he feels lightheaded. 

An ANBU stands at attention before him, and in his arms lies a bundle of blankets and an infant. 

He almost falls in his haste, stumbling over his feet, but eventually, he reaches her, holding out his arms for her. 

The ANBU hesitates when Sasuke makes to take her, and the feeling is there again, flashing in his eyes. 

He winds his arms around the bundle and pulls her flush to his chest in one quick motion. She makes another noise at the movement and Sasuke’s eyes snap to her face. 

Her eyes are wide open and they stare up at him, small black pools that he feels he could lose himself in so very easily. Her skin is pale and her hair is dark, just like him. Just like all of them.

His legs give out beneath him and he falls to the ground, quickly sitting steady as not to hurt her. He brings his hand up to her face, watches her eyes catch on it and then skitter away just as quick. He trails his fingers down the slope of her cheek, soft untouched skin beneath his own. 

His eyes water, tears welling up as he looks at this small little baby, who looks so much like him she could be his sister, and she is his family. The last of it. 

Emotions rage within him now, the quiet stillness of his mind gone and now flooded with a tumultuous tumble of thoughts. It burns in him and he stumbles through them, the ever-shifting mass of emotion bubbling over with hot rage and chilling loss and cold duress and- just at the edge, almost where he can reach it- warmth he can not put his finger on. 

“Her mother died in childbirth, and she was placed in the care of the hospital while they looked for suitable families within your Clan, but now,” the Hokage leaves the rest of the sentence hanging in the air. 

Sasuke can not tear his eyes from Itsumi’s face. 

“Sasuke, I brought you here to let you know she will be placed with a family-“ he continues, but Sasuke’s head snaps up and tears fly from his eyes at the movement. 

“Absolutely not. She’s mine,” he growls, tears streaming down his face, but his eyes are hard, his teeth bared and he tightens his hold on Itsumi once more. 

His thoughts scatter once more, spilling over and sliding away from him, there and gone in an instant. He can not process, he can not think, he _can not lose her._

The Hokage frowns at him and opens his mouth to speak, but Sasuke stands from the floor and cradles Itsumi to him as he speaks. His stomach bottoms out and he feels weightless, empty, void. 

He is suddenly filled with terror, after so long of nothing, it grips him tight and squeezes, at the thought of well and truly being alone. 

But Itsumi is real in his arms, she is warm and vivid, light, the sun itself, and _he can not lose her._

“As the eldest of my Clan, I am now the head, and as the head of the Uchiha Clan, I am saying you will not take her from me,” his mind has narrowed to thoughts of Itsumi and Itsumi alone. The words pour from him and his resolve only grows, steel filling his bones as he stands straight and tall before the Hokage, defending his Clan to the last. 

The Hokage’s expression pulls taught and his mouth quirks down. Just as he opens his mouth again, a wail cuts through the room, and all eyes fall to the infant in Sasuke’s arms. 

Itsumi is crying in earnest, tears spilling from her dark, pink rimmed eyes, covering her now flushed cheeks wet and shiny. 

Sasuke quickly adjusts his hold on her form, holding her up, her head tucked in his neck as his arm bolsters her from under her bottom and his other hand cradles her head. 

He sways, his body moving from left to right in a practiced movement his mother taught him years ago when his youngest of cousins were born. 

Her tears spill onto his skin, warm and wet, and her mouth latches onto his neck. 

“Itsumi-hime,” he calls to her softly, his eyes resting on her blanket and nothing more. “It’s alright, you’re safe now. I am your family, and I will let nothing happen to you. I will protect you.” 

That is all that matters now, _she_ is all that matters now. That Man, the blood and ash, the chill of bloodless flesh, none of it matters now. It can not in the face of her, tiny and frail, in need of protection, and he will give it to her no matter what. 

Itsumi makes a rough, phlegm filled sound, and promptly sneezes on Sasuke’s neck. 

He pulls her away from him enough to see her face, flushed and wet, and he watches her laugh, a trilling little giggle at pulls at his chest and swoops through his stomach. 

He re-settles her in the crook of his elbow and carefully brushes away her tears. 

“Better?” he asks, his voice so soft and quiet as he brushes his fingers across her skin. 

She laughs once more and wiggles her hands out of her blanket to grab at his finger, her tight grip bringing a warm calm to Sasuke’s mind. 

He continues to sway gently and is pleased with her soft cooing noises and her grip on his finger, enough to drag his eyes to meet the Hokage’s gaze. 

“We are the last of the Uchiha, Hokage-sama,” and Sasuke tries, he tries so hard to keep his voice steady, to stand firm as the Head of his Clan in front of the Hokage, but the idea, the very thought of Itusmi being taken from him suffocates him. It steals the very air from his lungs and makes him shake. 

“You can not take her from me,” he croaks, suddenly feeling very much 8 years old and all alone. 

The Hokage softens, his features falling into a mild expression, full of pity and remorse. Then he frowns once more, this time in thought as he gazes at the two children. “Legally, you are correct, as the Head of the Uchiha, you have all claim to the child. But Sasuke, you are but a child yourself, how are you going to raise an infant on your own?” he asks, and Sasuke knows he’s not trying to be hurtful, but it stabs at him. 

“I have an inheritance, all the Clan’s funds are mine now, so, I have enough to support us,” Sasuke starts, his mind waking fast, running through all the things he remembers about what being Clan Head means. His father’s voice is rough and proud as he speaks to That Man in his memories and Sasuke has to push through them to keep his mind. 

The Hokage nods solemnly at this, his hand coming up to stroke at his chin as he contemplates. “Be that as it may, Sasuke, you can’t really expect to know how to rear a child.” 

The deep rasp of his father still echoes at the edge of his mind and his spine straightens once more. He recalls words his father once said quite plainly to the elders of their Clan once and he echoes them now. “The affairs of the Uchiha matter only to the Uchiha. This is a Clan matter, Hokage-sama, do not interfere.” 

A shiver runs up Sasuke’s spine and he imagines his father’s solid grip on his shoulder. His heart pangs in his chest, but he stands still and wills the Hokage to take what he said and leave it at that. 

The Hokage raises an eyebrow at the boy. He stays silent for a moment before he tilts his head and nods ever so slightly. 

“Miru-san,” he calls out, and an assistant comes flittering into the room. “Please escort Uchiha-sama on his way, help him get settled if you will.” 

Relife, surprise, unadulterated gratitude floods his system and his knees feel weak once more, but he stays frozen, waiting.

Miru, a tall, kind-faced woman, looks down at Sasuke and little Itsumi and smiles, warm and motherly. 

“Of course, Hokage-sama,” she says, reaching out a hand to coral Sasuke to the door. 

He spares the Hokage one last glance and holds in any thanks he may want to give, it would only be a weakness to show gratitude when he had demanded this. 

Miru and an ANBU, who falls into step beside them, lead the way out of the building and into the village streets. 

This is it. He and only he are here to care for Itsumi, to care for himself. He needs to stay firm, to become someone she can rely on, be the Head of his Clan that is now only two. 

“Uchiha-sama, where would you like to go?” Miru asks politely. 

Sasuke looks down at Itsumi and thinks hard, recalling all he can about babies and their needs. 

“Itsumi needs to eat,” he says, nodding his head as he speaks. 

Itsumi gurgles at him watching her. 

“I need to get supplies for her. So, I need to access the Clan’s funds,” he says, pieces falling into place finally. 

First, get the money he needs to feed and house Itsumi. Second, feed Itsumi. And then maybe himself. 

He looks up at Miru, who has a peculiar look on her face, and waits for her to lead the way. 

She snaps out of it and smiles at him again, waving for him to follow as she begins to walk. 

It is surprisingly easy to gain access to the Clan funds. All he really does is walk up to the teller and tell them he is Uchiha Sasuke and he is the last of the Uchiha. They all but jump to help him, getting faces of pity and deep sadness from them all. 

Miru leads the way to a nearby store and helps him pile a cart full of clothing, food, toys, and other necessities Itsumi may need. He pays quickly and breaks open a sling that he wraps around his torso, strapping Itsumi to his chest snugly. She blows spit bubbles against his chest and he laughs gently as the ANBU and Miru help him carry his bags out. 

He stops abruptly outside of the store and looks to the ANBU. “Is- is the Compound clear?” he asks, his stomach turning at the thought of stepping foot on his land as it had been the last he was there. 

The ANBU nods his head. “It has been cleaned,” he says, and that is all Sasuke can hope for. 

They begin walking again and he leads the way towards the Compound, holding Itsumi tighter the closer they get. 

He exhales sharply when they come upon the Compound, not a drop of red, not a flake of ash, in sight. 

It looks just as it did before, but the silence is deafening. 

He forces himself not to stop at the door of his house, pushing forward and entering as if it were nothing, as if it were just another day with him coming home from the Academy. 

He holds his breath even as he walks through the house, his eyes forward and not straying to the sitting room once. He only breathes in when they reach the kitchen and he’s so glad the scent of blood is nowhere to be found. 

He unpacks the shopping bags and pulls himself through making Itsumi a bottle, then he rests on the couch, Itsumi’s head pillowed in his arm as he feeds her. She drinks the entire thing much to Sasuke’s delight and then her eyes flutter heavily and she tries to fall asleep. 

“Ah, ah, Itsumi-hime, you need to burp before you can sleep,” he tells her softly, picking her up swiftly and setting her head over his shoulder. He runs his hand over her back and pats gently until he’s satisfied she won’t wake up crying over an upset tummy. 

He holds her close to his chest and watches her blink slowly up at him until she falls asleep. 

He swallows thickly, his throat all of the sudden dry and scratchy, his eyes hot with tears, as he thinks of the last time he burped a baby- his mother's warm calloused hands gentle on his shoulder and under the babe, walking him through the motions with soft guidance and tempered mirth. 

He looks up at the two people still in his house and takes a deep breath, clearing his throat. 

“Thank you both for helping me get settled,” he tells them.

Miru smiles and it’s pinched at the sides, strained. “Of course, of course! Whatever you need, Uchiha-sama.” 

The name bites and brings memories of his father with it, cutting into him. He can not bring himself to smile back at her, fake or not. 

“We’ll be okay from here,” he says, hoping they will leave now, so that he may breathe in peace. 

Miru stands, her smile still too wide and thin to be real, and after a quiet goodbye, she takes her leave. 

The ANBU does not move from his position near the window. “I have orders to watch over you, Uchiha-sama,” he says, his head swiveling from side to side as he surveys the room.

Sasuke swallows. He breathes. In, out, in, out. Itsumi breathes against his chest, hot puffs of air against his skin. 

He leans back, sinking into the cushions of the couch, letting the furniture take his weight, and he lets his mind take what has happened and slowly box it away. 

The weight of Itsumi is real against him, and she is all that matters. 

Sasuke runs his hand up and down the side of her, warming them both with the motion. His eyes burn with exhaustion, his eyelids heavy with the need for sleep. 

The silence is heavy and he hates it, but he doesn't know how to break it. 

He closes his eyes, keeping his arms secure against Itsumi. He reasons that he will be no good to her if he does not sleep at least a little. 

His breath evens out as he rests finally, the last of his Clan curled against him as she too sleeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok i have fallen in LOVE LOVE with baby itsumi, it took me hours to find a name for her but i FOUND it, the perfect name for sasuke’s princess (i felt like GOO when i wrote “itsumi-hime” i fell to absolute PIECES. the idea that little sasu would look at this child, this infant girl, and have the knee jerk reaction to just. call her -hime??? absolutely untouched, the most galaxy brain i’ve ever been)  
> this is kinda a sasu character study??? like i want to look into the Trauma he went through but also the unhealthy coping mechanism of boxing it all away to devote your life to an infant is,,, yikes my boy havshjsk idk i’m just feeling it out, maybe some growth will happen, maybe he’ll breakdown and lose his mind! no one knows, least of all me!  
> bls comment and kudos it gives me life and fuel to sleep a proper amount gdhdsjkajdakd  
> thanks for reading!  
> p.s. this might have more chapters? idk I'm bad with continuations.  
> p.p.s. i need to find a groove with my writing, where i’m showing more and telling less oml so if you have any tips or critiques pls let me know!


	2. to milky skies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sasuke buries his face in the soft wisp-like hair on Itsumi’s head and breathes deep, the scent of her- like milk and new skin- washing away the metallic taste in his mouth. 

Sasuke drowns. 

His uneven footing on the patch dirt road is swept away in the current, wave after wave of pure red flooding the streets. It swirls around him, moving faster and faster still, pulling him under. 

His mouth fills with blood, the thick metal of it clogging his throat even as he refuses it. It chokes- slick, sticky, hot, hot, hot- and he can not breathe. 

His eyes well over with tears, his chest constricts and he feels a weight catch on something deep inside him, pulling him down, down, down. 

His eyes won't close no matter how much blood covers him, he swallows lungfuls of it and all he can see is red. He can’t breathe with it, it suffocates him, the taste, the smell, the feeling of it soaking him to the bone. 

A hand lashes out from the mass of red and Sasuke reaches for it desperately. He claws at it, trying to pull himself up, up, up, but the hand has no resistance and as he pulls the hand close to his chest he realizes it is only just a hand, cut off at the wrist, a bloody mangled stump. 

He screams and more blood rushes down his throat and he sinks further beneath the crimson waves. 

He wakes paralyzed, his body frozen where it lies tangled in his bedsheets. He shivers, drenched in a cold sweat, ice filling his veins. His eyes stare unseeing at the ceiling above, open wide and spilling tears in earnest. 

It is the crying that wakes him fully, the ear-piercing wail of a newborn echoing through his silent home. He starts to his feet, stumbling to the crib directly beside his bed, his breath coming in harsh and uneven. 

When he reaches the crib- he and one of the ever-rotating ANBU had put it together a week before on their second night together- he tenses to a stop. He hovers over the side, peering down at Itsumi’s swollen tear-streaked face all scrunched up as she cries. He shudders through a deep breath and calms his racing heart before reaching to pull Itsumi into his arms. He rests her gently in his grasp, rocking side to side as he pats her back soothingly, shushing her all the while. 

“Itsumi-hime, did you have a nightmare too? Don’t worry, I’m right here,” he whispers into her hair, pressing his lips to the crown of her head in a soft kiss. 

Sasuke paces the length of their room- and it is their room now, with Itsumi’s crib placed against the wall beside Sasuke’s bed, her toys strewn about all over the floor, her changing station against the far wall near the door- and bounces her with every step, always being careful to cradle her head. 

He whispers to her nonsensically, a gentle murmur pressed into her hair. He tells her about what they’re going to do today, what book’s he’s going to read to her, what toy’s he’ll show her, he tells her anything and everything to keep up the steady stream of his voice. 

Her crying subsides to quiet hiccups and soft sniffles and he sighs out, relieved to see her calming. He wanders back to her crib and sleuths out her pacifier, offering it to a cheerful response. She sags against his shoulder, her cheek pillowing on top of it, her eyes falling shut once more as she becomes preoccupied with her binkie. He brushes a hand over her head, pushing at the dark wisps of hair, trailing his thumb over her forehead in a gentle caress. 

He sets her back in her crib, watches the slow rise and fall of her chest as she breathes, and he begins to shake violently. 

It wracks his frame, shudders running up his spine and curling him over to clench at his rolling stomach. He falters on his feet and bolts to the bathroom, spilling his guts to the unforgiving chill of white porcelain. He heaves, bile all he’s able to give, and tears tip over, the warmth of them trailing his cheeks. Sasuke curls around the toilet, breathing harsh and fast as he breaks. 

His eyes close and the darkness brings only red and so much of it. He can feel it against his skin, the slick quality of it in the beginning, the barest warmth it brought him through the chill of early morning, the scent of it clogging his airways, the weight of its copper taste so cloying he could not breath with it. He drags his eyes open to check, always to check, and though his hands are clean all he can see is mother and father dripping from his fingers, dug deep in his nail beds, spread through every joint. 

He feels cold, his teeth chatter and he shakes with ice weighing him down. He breathes through his mouth, quick puffs of air, until his stomach feels less inclined to spill over once more, and then he stands. 

He sheds his clothing and turns to the shower, watching the water cut on in a spray of white that blinks red, the droplets splashing across the walls a sickening vermilion, before it is water again, clear and quickly warming. 

He steps under the spray shaking, letting the near-boiling temperature seep deep under his skin where he hopes it will stay, washing away the blood and ash he feels lives there. 

He takes his time, leaning against the walls around him as he scrubs, each pass of his hands rough and clawing- nails digging deep to welt- until he is red and aching, but joyously clean. 

He feels better with each rinse and repeat, the motion and feeling of becoming new again takes weight off his shoulders and he stands straighter the longer he washes. He steps out of the shower on steady feet, wrapping a towel around himself before heading back to his room. 

He dresses unhurried, taking his time to dry his hair, to shake off the chill of his dream once and for all. The sun is beginning to rise now, blue light illuminating through the windows and slowly pushing the shadows back. 

Itsumi remains untouched, fast asleep on her back, her binkie fallen to the wayside. He watches her a moment before heading to the kitchen to start on breakfast for himself. 

He keeps in constant motion through the morning, pacing while eating, jogging the length of the living room, doing push-ups and curl-ups, and other workouts he would be doing if he were at the Academy still. 

The illusion of doing something blankets his mind numb, only white static filtering in over the loud pounding of his heart and the rush of blood in his ears. 

He wakes Itsumi at 7, gathering her from her crib and bouncing her along to the kitchen for her bottle. She always eats well, a small bolt of pride welling in Sasuke when she finishes her food every time. 

He dresses them both for the day, straps Itsumi to his chest and leaves the house, the weight of ANBU eyes always heavy on his back. 

He’s come up with a routine for them, wake and eat together first thing, dress and wash up, stroll around town through the morning hours, break for lunch, settle in the park to read and “play”, then head back to the house for dinner and sleep. It is strategically planned to keep him away from the Compound the majority of the day; the silence is suffocating, body chilling, mind corrupting. 

The park is a sprawling mass of green, trees and bushes covering the space not carved out for walking paths. Small benches and picnic tables litter the area for the congregating families and even in the midday heat, they are filled with villagers. 

Sasuke scans the area and finds a big tree, lush branches shading a wide area under it, and he makes his way towards it. He settles beneath it and leans his back against the trunk. 

Itsumi is not old enough to sit up on her own so he merely unwraps her from the sling and adjusts her position against him, leaning her head against his shoulder and holding her legs around his torso with an arm under her bottom. 

They sit like that for a while, the tree above swaying in the breeze, the sound of cicadas, and rushing footsteps all around. 

His eyes remain open, staring off into the middle distance, and he loses time. He knows where he is, the weight of Itsumi is too much for him to fall away completely, but the sounds and sight blur, and all he can feel is each breath he takes and the warmth of the child in his arms. 

This morning’s nightmare claws at his mind, the vortex of red and black, the choking scent and feel of blood- so much blood- sweeping him under. 

He closes his eyes. 

Sasuke buries his face in the soft wisp-like hair on Itsumi’s head and breathes deep, the scent of her- like milk and new skin- washing away the metallic taste in his mouth. 

A sound to his left raises Sasuke’s hackles. His grip on Itsumi tightens and he shifts to peer around the bulk of the tree, searching for the source. 

His eyes land on a small form, her knees pulled up to her chest, her long dark bangs spilling around her and covering her face. She appears to be crying, the choked sobbing noise coming from her huddled form the sound Sasuke heard. 

He looks away from her and scans the area around the tree they sit beneath. Smiling families, gleeful children running after one another, sedate shinobi walking at their leisure, no obvious source to the girls' tears. 

He frowns, shifts further onto his knees, and moves closer to her. 

“Why are you crying?” he winces at the rasp of his voice, the disuse leaving his words raw. 

The girls’ head snaps up much too fast and Sasuke winces again, he could practically hear her neck crack. Pale eyes, the color of lavender and milk, glossy with tears, stare up at him unblinking. 

“W-wha-What?” her voice is soft, far too soft and small, that had Sasuke not been so close he would not have heard her. 

“Why are you crying?” he asks again, shifting his grip on Itsumi as he lowers himself to the ground beside the girl. 

She continues to stare, tears leaking down her flushed cheeks and dripping from her red nose. 

Sasuke grimaces and reaches behind him for Itsumi’s bag, pulling out a package of tissues and placing them on the girl's knees. 

She blinks, finally, and looks down at the package as if she has never seen anything like it before and Sasuke would almost believe that, if not for her very nice kimono and the polished shine of her shoes peeking out from beneath the fold. 

Her eyes flicker back to him then slide to the right, catching on Itsumi and Sasuke watches as her eyes go wide as the moon. She looks away and gently takes a tissue from the package and wipes away her tears. Her face is bright pink and when she looks back at him she uses the damp tissue and her hand to obscure her face. 

“Th- thank, thank you, I- I,” her voice is still small, nearly breathless, and with each word the flush on her face deepens. 

Sasuke frowns deeper and her face nearly turns purple, heat spreads down her neck and her fingers appear red where they clutch at her tissue. 

He thinks she may pass out. 

His frown shutters, long practice smoothing out the line of his mouth and schooling his expression as he turns his face away from her, letting his eyes trail the horizon. 

He listens to her breathing, the choked stuttering pace calming quickly with paced deep breaths and he nods to himself. 

A tug on his hair pulls his attention away from the crying girl and to the baby in his arms. 

“Yes, Hime?” he asks her softly, picking her off of his shoulder and settling her down in the crux of his folded legs, her head resting in the fold of his knee. 

She babbles, a hand coming up and reaching for Sauke’s bangs and he smiles at the display, watching her blow spit bubbles and flap at his hair. 

The girl shifts beside him and he takes his eyes off Itsumi to glance at her. Her head is ducked low like Sasuke’s and a wondrous smile plays on her face. The swath of her bangs is much longer than Sasuke’s, the ends trailing just within Itsumi’s reach, and the young girl bats at them like a kitten would a piece of string. The smile on the crying girl's face breaks wide, gummy and with enough force to shut her eyes. 

Her eyes flutter open after a moment and she tilts her head to look at him. 

“She is very beautiful,” she whispers, her eyes flickering back to the giggling babe. 

Pride swoops through his gut and makes him nearly smile. He nods instead because she is right and he is glad she knows it. 

“Thank you. Her name is Itsumi,” he tells her. 

Her head ducks low once more and she whispers in her small voice, “It is nice to meet you Itsumi-san. My name is Hinata.” 

Itsumi bubbles and swats at Hinata’s hair and the girl seems to take that as the greeting it is. 

“I have a younger sister not much older than you, Hanabi-chan is three this fall,” she tells Itsumi, her eyes tracking the girl’s roving hands. 

“Itsumi is three months, nearly four,” Sasuke chimes in, his hands smoothing over Itsumi’s belly and playing with her toes. 

Hinata smiles brighter at Itsumi’s trilling laughter and she pulls back, tucking her bangs behind her ears as she goes. 

She catches Sasuke’s eye and pink suffuses her cheeks, her eyes skitting away quickly. 

“I’m- I’m sorry, I forgot my man- manners,” she tumbles over her words and pulls at a lock of her hair, letting the dark wave cover her face. 

Sasuke just blinks, looks down at his charge, back to Hinata’s hidden face, and then settles on Itsumi’s wide dark eyes. 

He traces the ever-so slope of her nose with the tip of his finger and watches her scrunch up and sneeze at him. 

“Sasuke,” he gives, never taking his eyes off Itsumi. 

Hinata shifts beside him, tucking her knees underneath her and smoothing her hand over the line of her kimono. 

“It is nice to meet you, Sasuke-san,” she whispers, wind soft and light as a spring breeze. 

She doesn’t come close again. Her hands play with the edge of her kimono and her head swivels around in a slow continuous path, her eyes tracing each and every aspect of the park around them. 

The silence is nice, the tree branches creak and sway with the wind, Itsumi giggles, Hinata swivels, and Sasuke watches his babe and the girl beside him.

They stay like that until Itsumi begins to fuss and Sasuke gathers his things to leave. 

He stands, Itsumi wrapped tight to his chest, her bag slung over his shoulder and about to leave when Hinata tugs at his sleeve gently. 

He turns and she hands him the tissue packet he lent her. 

His eyes catch on the red rim of her eyes, the sheaf of her hair that the breeze has blown into her face covering the worst of the evidence, but Sasuke can still see it. 

“Keep it,” is all he says, turns on his heels, and begins his walk home, the shadow he had almost forgotten about quick to follow. 

Later, after dinner has been eaten, Itsumi burped, changed, and put to sleep, Sasuke lies in bed, his eyes trained on the ceiling. 

He thinks he vaguely remembers Hinata from the Academy, most of his memories of his schooling now shuttered and interspersed with That Man, but he can recall a flash of her milk-white eyes, tucked into the back of the classroom. 

He wonders what they are learning now, weeks having passed since he last stepped foot in a classroom. 

Maybe he’ll ask her. Maybe he won't. Maybe he will lock himself in this empty house and never again surface. Maybe he will wake before the sun tomorrow and walk to the market. 

He does not know, and sleep is too close for him to dwell on it further. 

He lets the pull of exhaustion grip him tight and tuck him under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmaO we back! im a slow writer don't @ me fergfyrehuw   
> anyway!!! yeehaw!!! another chapter!! getting into something I really way to explore with small sasu; friendships. this story is really just me deciding fuck canon, sasuke deserves to be friends with all the konoha 11 LETS GO  
> I'm ruminating on some plot lines and the overarching story, but I need to outline and work it out, lets hope college doesn't fuck it up for me fefredfghjkj   
> expect more kids in the next chapter! all the kids! little bastards all running around just waiting to fall into sasuke's clutches


End file.
